“I tried telling her you could stay in my room until we figured something else out. Caleb wouldn’t have cared if he couldn’t sleep over. He likes you. But…”
Sighing, I stand and drop the bags onto my unmade mattress. Unzipping them, I give her an unconvincing, “It’s fine. Sydney never liked me anyway, so it was bound to happen. I’m sure this is her way of finally getting me out of the way so she can have—” I cut myself off abruptly, my bitter tone swallowed down when I remember who I’m talking to. The girlfriend of Aiden’s friend. His new best friend.
I don’t look at her when she says, “He doesn’t like her, Ivy.”
Throat bobbing, I shake my head and start stuffing clothes forcefully into one of the duffle bags and gesture toward the other. “Can you pack those shirts and jeans into that bag? I’ll handle the other stuff. It’ll be faster.”
A small hand meets my arm. “Come on. Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to say,” I snap. Shaking her off, I continue packing hoping she’ll drop it.
But she’s just like DJ. “You’ve got friends who care about you. I know we’ve only hung out that once, but I’d like to think we’re friends. And I texted Caleb who’s probably told Aiden by—”
“Of course you did.” I pause what I’m doing to shoot her an annoyed look while clenching a worn old band tee in my hands that I stole from one of the guys I stayed with a while back. “Listen, Raine. I like you. You’re a nice person. But I’m at rock bottom right now and if you keep talking then I’m going to lose it again. And I can’t go back to that place because I don’t know if I’ll be able to pull myself out of it.”
“What place?”
I go to answer but quickly press my lips together, grinding my teeth to refrain from admitting the truth. Don’t think about it, I tell myself. Despite my silent chides, I shiver over the memory of cold, grubby tile under my bleeding body. The way the blade felt against my skin. How…freeing it was knowing the helplessness would go away once and for all until I realized I wasn’t free at all.
That desperation is creeping its way back in, taunting me at another failed endeavor. I was homeless for no reason, but I still have more than I did last time I was booted out from under the roof sheltering me.
I have a job.
I have school.
I could ask Bea—
“Where’d you go?” Raine’s voice cuts in, distant, but thick with concern.
When I look at her again, I feel nothing. No energy. No anger. Only emptiness. And I don’t let myself go back to the days leading up to the ambulance taking me away because I know all too well what that would do to me.
I’m better now.
I’ve got something to work toward.
I have things to lose, which means there are things to fight for.
“Nowhere,” I rasp, anxiety winding around my windpipe and choking me. “Are you going to help me pack or not? I want to leave.”
Want. It’s hard not to snort at the word choice as if this is my decision, but it’s better than facing reality and accepting that unwanted is the most accurate term that surrounds my existence.
I think back to the first time Mom indicated I should go to Gertie’s house. How she constantly reminded me it’d be better if I left by feigning false excitement as if there were better things waiting for me at my grandma’s place. How many times had she pushed me in that direction? Made it seem like it was the best option for everybody?
For a moment I think Raine’s going to tell me no, but eventually she helps get my things divided between my two duffle bags until there’s no room for anything else.
I grab one and put it over my shoulder. “I don’t need the bed or bedding, so someone else can have it. Or throw it away. I’m sure it’s not quality standard around here and doubt it’ll sell for anything.”
Pain laces into Raine’s features. “Ivy—”
“Don’t worry about it.” The smile on my face is effortless because I’ve had to mold one like it countless of other times to show my sanity, as fragile as it may be.
I sidestep her and walk upstairs, refusing to acknowledge the people I pass. I’m sure Sydney is among them, looking smug like she just won a competition I had no chance at winning. My skin itches from the acceptance that this walk of shame is being witnessed by a houseful of people I never got along with, making it somehow worse than if they were complete strangers.
Hearing Raine call my name as I close the front door a little too hard, I keep my gaze forward as if I’m walking with a purpose.
You can break when you’re alone, I tell myself bitterly, holding back the frustrated tears that well in my eyes. Head in the game.
When I’m halfway down the street, headlights come into view and blind me. I block the light with a raised hand as the fancy sports car stops beside me, the window rolling down until a familiar cocky smile fills the space. “Need a lift?”